


Adversity

by Truth



Category: Land of the Dead (2005)
Genre: Dead People, Death, Disturbing Themes, Other, Past tragedy, Road Trips, Zombies, dead reckoning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 11:22:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2810384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Truth/pseuds/Truth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fiddler's Green has fallen and Dead Reckoning starts northward across a mostly abandoned landscape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adversity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ruuger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruuger/gifts).



Roads still spanned the empty spaces between rotting, abandoned towns and merged with the enormous, eight-laned monstrosities crawling into and around the ruins that had once been cities. The vast, sprawling network which had once been maintained and repaired regularly, had fallen into disrepair, crumbling and heaving with the changing seasons and vagaries of weather.

Dead Reckoning had little to worry about when it came to potholes or the occasional wash-out. Even the occasional blockage by abandoned, rusting vehicles or fallen tree offered little enough in the way of actual obstacles. Heavy armor plating was, however, heavy. Lack of maintenance meant the occasional crumbling surface or potential sinkhole, and the sheer weight of the vehicle could send it sliding or sinking down into a pit from which there might be no recovery.

It took them three days, over a hundred miles and some very careful scavenging before they found their fail-safe. It was the careful part and not the scavenging itself which made their progress so achingly slow.

“You’re shitting me.” Pretty Boy hung out of Dead Reckoning’s hatch, staring down the increasing crowded highway. “You want me to try to take this beast into _that_?”

“He’s lost his mind.” Slack had hopped out of the vehicle and was squinting into the midday sun, reflecting from the ruined buildings in the distance. “That’s fucking Cincinnati over there. It’s got to be stuffed with stenches.”

“Technically, that’s not Cincinnati. Not yet, anyway. Well, it’s Cincinnati in the distance. That’s not quite what I’m looking at,” Riley said.

“This,” came Pillsbury’s diagnosis from somewhere inside, “is a bad idea.”

“Thank you for the understatement.” Slack made a face, reaching for the binoculars that were dangling from Riley’s hand.

They were twitched away. “If you think I’ve lost my marbles,” Riley said, “then what do you think there is to look at?”

“Well there has to be _something_ , even if you’re just imagining it.” She snatched again, managing to catch them this time. “Give me that.”

He let her have them, stepping back. “Take a look. Tell me what you see.”

Pretty Boy dropped out of Dead Reckoning, moving to lean against Slack, peering over her shoulder as if she could see what Slack was looking at through osmosis.

“You’re heavy.” Slack didn’t attempt to shrug her off, however, concentrating on the ruined buildings spread out against the horizon.

“And you’re slow. What’cha see?”

“A big damn mess.” Slack adjusted the focus and kept looking, sweeping the former city from left to right. “Buildings, what used to be buildings, rubble -”

“And?” Pretty Boy leaned harder, squinting as if that would bring the distant details into focus.

“And that’s about it. Just a big mess of - hey.” Slack lowered the binoculars, pursing her lips thoughtfully.

Pretty Boy took the opportunity to steal the binoculars, bringing them up to her own eyes. “What’s a ‘hey’?”

“You’ll see it.” Riley leaned back against Dead Reckoning. “Keep looking.”

“It’s a truck depot.” Pretty Boy had apparently been paying attention to the direction of Slack’s ‘hey’. “That means gas. Maybe.”

“More than that. Used to be, places like that kept their own wreckers and their own gear to get their trucks out of places they shouldn’t be.” Riley smiled at the back of Pretty Boy’s head. “We could load up on gas - we have plenty of room without all the fireworks - and possibly pick up a few bits and pieces to help keep Dead Reckoning on the road.”

“Small problem.” Slack held up a finger. “We can’t take Dead Reckoning into that mess.”

“You got that right.” Pretty Boy was still scanning. “There’s a couple of overpasses that’ve collapsed, and cars fucking all over the roads. “No way in hell can we get my beast into that mess.”

“Ah. Now see, I have a plan for that too.” Riley reached out, taking hold of Pretty Boy’s shoulders. He carefully turned her to the right. “Now what do you see?”

There was a moment of confused silence. “What’s a Harley Davidson?”

“Children.” That was Pillsbury’s contribution as his massive form appeared in Dead Reckoning’s hatch. “It is a place that sells motorcycles. Big ones.”

“Motorcycles.” Slack considered that. “That’s a dangerous idea.”

“Not a bad one,” Pillsbury told her. “Better maneuverability, and a way to see what the road is like ahead.”

“Also a really good way to get in there and steal some gas. Truck depots wouldn’t have been an obvious target to anyone needing gas, most of them stock diesel.” One of the reasons why they’d been able to keep Dead Reckoning running for so long. Those who had tried to flee the walking dead had fuelled up - but far fewer people used diesel fuel. Riley had apparently been counting on that. “And it looks more or less in one piece.”

“The noise will draw the stenches, and anyone riding is going to be very, very exposed.” Slack made a face, tapping at Pretty Boy’s shoulder and accepting the offered binoculars. “Plus, those don’t run on diesel - do they?”

“No, but they’ll need a lot less gas.” Riley pointed to the east. “See that?”

“... no. What am I looking at?”

“Historically, the rather violent and very tragic last stand of the Cincinnati National Guard. Apparently, they attempted to set up roadblocks and barricades to keep the stenches out - and failed. Almost immediately.” Riley made a face. 

“How did you know that?” Pillsbury asked.

“I did a lot of research before deciding to head north.”

“Research or witchcraft, who cares how he found out? This means we might be able to find weapons, ammo and do some reloading of the beast’s missiles?” Pretty Boy folded her arms. “We still can’t get Dead Reckoning in there. That means, let me guess, more motorcycles?”

“The motorcycles are key to the entire plan. We sure as hell can’t just walk into a city of that size.”

“We don’t _want_ to walk into a city of that size,” Pillsbury corrected him.

“We’re going to have to in order to get to the motorcycles,” Slack retorted. “Who here can drive those things?”

“Anchor can. Charlie can -”

“I can, but I’m not leaving my baby.” Pretty Baby scowled at Riley.

“Noted. I can as well. Can you?” Riley turned to Slack and Pillsbury.

“Not me.” Pillsbury held up both hands. “Give me four wheels, and I can drive it. Two? Not so much.”

“Not me,” Slack admitted grudgingly. “But I could learn.”

“With luck, we’ll be able to find a few heavy bikes and sidecars to go with them.” Riley tapped his fingers against Slack’s shoulder. “Don’t know if they can haul trailers at the same time as sidecars, but either way, moving supplies or having a gunner with the bike will be very, very useful.”

“So you want to take Anchor and Charlie and walk down into that, that mess?” Slack lowered the binoculars to give him an incredulous look. “You’re crazy.”

“Worse,” he told her cheerfully. “I want you to go with us.”

“Go with us where?” Charlie’s voice floated past Pillsbury from within Dead Reckoning, somewhat spoiled by a yawn. “What’ve you all been doing while I was asleep?”

“Come on out, Charlie.” Riley waved to Pillsbury, who obligingly stepped out of the vehicle, giving Charlie room to also exit. “Or, wake Anchor and both of you come out here. We’ve got some plans to make.”

**

“I hate you a lot.” Slack’s tone was more or less conversational.

“You don’t hate Riley,” Charlie objected.

“I do.”

“She does.”

“Would the lot of you quit squabbling?” Anchor had been less than pleased to be separated from Dead Reckoning and downright upset when the full plan had been explained to him. “Noise attracts the stenches. Keep it down.”

Slack stuck her tongue out at him and he flipped her off.

“Can we leave the catalogue of my moral failings to, as Anchor points out, a more convenient time?”

Slack stuck her tongue out at Riley as well.

“Rude,” Charlie said.

The four of them were moving as quietly as possible (more or less) along the verge of what had once been Highway 75. Pretty Boy had flatly refused to bring Dead Reckoning any closer to Cincinnati and it’s sprawling suburbs. “You want to walk in there, then _walk_. I take Dead Reckoning any closer, and we’ll end up driving right through crumbling concrete and crashing onto that traffic jam below - that’s if we get that far through the mess.”

She had a point, one which was impossible to refute - so they walked.

The closer they drew to the ruined skyline, the more vehicles appeared along the road. Some were abandoned, doors tightly closed and everything to heavy to easily carry left locked within. A few had open doors with obvious signs of weather damage and animals nesting in the seats and beneath. The further they went, the more cars and trucks could be seen abandoned in the middle of the road, some of them obviously post-accident. The occasional sealed car had a body, or more than one, inside.

Charlie cast an uneasy glance at one that had an entire family within, dessicated and nearly skeletal thanks to the tiny scavengers that had managed to get inside as the years passed. They were all strapped neatly in their seats, the driver still with a gun in their hand.

“I don’t like this.”

“Nobody does, Charlie.” Slack had moved closer to him, the two of them casting uneasy glances at what was becoming a macabre graveyard. “We’re losing line of sight.”

“We need to get off the road. It might be harder walking, but anything could be lurking in this mess.” Anchor waved to Riley, who’d ranged slightly ahead. 

Riley waved back and moved slowly to join them. “Want to leave the road?”

“Yes. Very much so.” Slack gave the nearest truck a suspicious look. “There’s no visibility here.”

“We’re not going to reach the dealership before nightfall,” Charlie said. “Got to find someplace to sleep.”

“We could crack open one of the big semis,” Anchor said. “They used to have actual beds in a few of those.”

“Or maybe a stench or two,” Slack retorted.

“Unlikely. Anything trapped in here would’ve starved to death or just plain cooked to death years ago.” Riley glanced around. “There’s not much along this stretch except cars. There should be a roadside rest, somewhere. We could shut ourselves in, get some sleep.”

“As long as we’re sure there aren’t any stenches around. Don’t fancy waking up in the morning to find ourselves surrounded.” Charlie was still peering at the nearby cars nervously. 

“We’ll take precautions, Charlie.” Riley clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s haul ass and get under cover before dark.”

“At last, a plan I agree with.” Slack looked back over her shoulder. “This place is creeping me out.”

**

“What’re they doing?” Pretty Boy had her feet on Dead Reckoning’s steering wheel, stretching back in her chair to look, up-side down, at Pillsbury’s backside.

The large man had both feet on the ladder leading upward, and his arms braced on Dead Reckoning’s roof. He was using their spare binoculars to watch the group trudging along the roadside.

“They’re leaving the road. Good thing, too. There are a lot of vehicles and it’s getting crowded.”

“Pff. Told you so.” Pretty Boy had been watching them herself until around ten minutes ago. “Where do you think they’re headed?”

“There’s a truck stop a few miles ahead. I don’t think they can see it, but it might be a place to spend the night.”

“If it’s not full of stenches.” Pretty Boy sighed, slumping down in her chair. “I’ll miss them. What should we do, once they get themselves eaten?”

Pillsbury made a disapproving noise. “They will be fine.”

“I’m glad one of us thinks so.”

**

The truck stop loomed out of the gathering dusk like an island in a sea of encroaching greenery. The weathered signs promised beds, showers and cable tv, a dangling addition announcing in once-bright letters ‘Free Wi-Fi’. Several of the tanks out at the attached station had been sheared off, and there was a line of abandoned containers in the parking lot.

The large display windows were shattered, grass and other plants creeping over the sill and across the signs of long-ago looters. Needless vandalism, apparently, as the doors marked faintly ‘in’ and ‘out’ were off their hinges and lying across the entrance.

“Well, _that_ looks promising.”

“Why is everything you say an invitation for a fight?” Riley shot Slack a look where amusement warred with annoyance.

“Maybe I like fighting.” She smirked at him before turning her attention back to the ruined truck stop. 

“Showers won’t work.” Charlie’s was the rueful voice of experience. “Sure would be nice if they did.”

“Yeah, I bet the wi-fi is out too.” Anchor rolled his eyes. “And the bunks are full of rats. We do this all the time, Charlie, remember?”

“Just sayin’.” Charlie unslung his rifle, holding it in one hand. “Want me to keep an eye out?”

Slack covered her mouth with one hand, hiding a smile. Charlie gave her an injured look, but let it slide.

“Yeah. You stay here, Charlie. Slack, start moving to the west. Stop when you can see around the side of the building. Anchor?”

“I got it.” Anchor was already moving to the east, weapon at the ready. 

“You going in there alone?” Slack hadn’t moved an inch, eyebrows going up.

“Someone has to - and this way I have three different options, all of them covered, if I need to make a hasty exit.” Riley gave her a crooked smile. “We do this all the time. We’ve got a system.”

“Usually a few more people,” Charlie muttered.

“Yeah, well, we make do with what we have. All we need is a single, clean room with a door we can close and, preferably, lock.” Riley had his rifle in hand as he started for the shattered doors. “West side, Slack. Let’s go.”

“You ever notice that he never says ‘Please’?” Slack made a face at Riley’s back before heading away to the west.

There was no broken glass left to crunch beneath Riley’s booted feet, weather and the passage of time having blown most of it away. He moved slowly and carefully into the abandoned building, taking in the damage and decay.

This wasn’t like the places the crew of the Dead Reckoning were used to looting. Fiddler’s Green had held out so long because it had never fallen. Strong military resistance, draconian quarantine precautions; some of the places they liked to visit had still had living people within just a few years before. This - this place had come apart right near the beginning, from the look of it. There wouldn’t be anything here worth taking, unless it had been sealed away from the start, somewhere far within the building. Even then, it was good odds that the rats or mice had destroyed whatever might’ve been overlooked.

That didn’t mean there wouldn’t be stenches here, just that they’d be old, very old - and equally hungry.

Riley kept his movements as quiet as possible, though that wasn’t entirely possible. The floor was covered with dead grass and leaves as well as other detritus, and his steps made a rustling sound that would be hard to mistake for anything else. Familiar with working in the dark, he thumbed on a flashlight as nightfall outside combined with the mostly windowless interior to create a stygian darkness.

The layout of these places was fairly basic, and Riley’d been inside his share. Convenience store and gas station in the front, restaurant to the left, bathrooms, showers and bunkrooms to the rear. He moved slowly between the shelves of the convenience store, checking carefully before turning every corner, having to backtrack a few times due to shelves that were tipped or askew.

Outside, he could catch the occasional glimpse of Charlie through the shattered windows, though it was becoming harder as night came on. They wanted to be undercover before full dark, which meant moving a little faster.

It didn’t mean being any less thorough.

He found his first body, or what was left of one, wedged against the door of the women’s restroom. ‘Ask at desk for key’ said the time-worn sign. He made a face, gently nudging the collection of bones, or mostly bones with a booted foot. When they didn’t so much as twitch, he left them, moving on to investigate the men’s room.

Outside, Anchor, Slack and Charlie were forced to draw closer to the building in order to see. Their long, spread-out line allowed them to each keep a field of view of one side of the building as well as watching each other’s backs. They didn’t dare turn on their lights, though they all had them. Moving lights in the outer darkness would draw attention, something they definitely didn’t want.

The men’s room held another body, this one spread out across the floor, bits and pieces lying here and there in a pattern that suggested scavengers - probably stenches. It too was old, the faint smears of darkness on the floor nearly invisible, despite the strength of Riley’s flashlight.

It was an encouraging sign. Hard to tell the age of the bodies thus far, but they were old enough to argue that whatever had killed them had long since wandered away, or been disposed of by survivors. Still, it wasn’t in Riley to take chances. If it had been, he wouldn’t have survived to reach this point in the first place.

Doing his best to be thorough, he checked every door, finding the ‘employees only’ one to be locked and deciding to leave well enough alone. The restaurant proved equally silent and empty, signs of a long-ago fire in the kitchen revealing a gaping hole where a gas stove and oven had probably once stood. It was impossible to tell if the explosion had been deliberate or accidental, and he didn’t care. As long as the bunk rooms were structurally sound, and empty, this place would do.

He found himself reconsidering as he rounded the corner, finding himself in the bare, utilitarian hallway that led along the back of the convenience store to the addition that housed the showers and lounge for tired truckers. The door at the end looked sturdy enough - what could be seen of it behind the literal pile of human remains. The bodies had been stacked, or had fallen, in a heap that reached almost to his waist, and that was after years of decay. These hadn’t been spread about, arguing that they’d already been dead for some time before they stopped moving. 

The door opened _outward_ , with the bodies piled against it, which told its own story. Whoever or whatever had killed these particular stenches had been out here.

Riley decided it was time for a tactical retreat. 

“Come on, guys.” Charlie caught sight of Riley’s flashlight as he returned to the convenience store and blinked it at where he’d last seen Charlie. “Time to go in.”

The four of them huddled together at the far end of the hallway, staring at the macabre pile of sprawled limbs and tangled corpses.

“Fifty-fifty chance there’s stenches still in there.”

Anchor’s diagnosis was met with grim nods from the other three. 

“We could hole up in the men’s room,” Slack offered. “It’s got a lock, and the body in there isn’t gonna get up and start moving around.”

“It’s gonna be uncomfortable.” Charlie’s comment was an observation, not a complaint. “‘Course, sleeping in Dead Reckoning isn’t exactly comfortable either.”

“The men’s room, then. If we toss what’s left of the body outside, there’s just enough room for the four of us.” Riley sighed. “At least it’s old enough that there’s no smell.”

“Thankfully. Come on, let’s get this over with and get some sleep.”

**

Despite a somewhat restless night, sleeping on linoleum covered concrete was never comfortable, the morning found all four of them at least awake enough to share a meagre breakfast.

“Too bad this place is such a wreck.” Slack had taken up a perch on the edge of the small sink, chewing on a protein bar. “We haven’t seen much in the way of places to raid along the way, and we’re going to need food soon.”

“Something else we’ll hopefully find at the truck depot.” Anchor had fished a tiny, square tube out of his pack and was fiddling with it. “There’s usually a commissary or at least lunch counter there. We might pick up some canned goods, maybe some oatmeal or something if the vermin haven’t gotten to it.”

“I’m not so sure about all this ‘hoping’,” Slack admitted. “I’d really love a nice, firm ‘we’re positive’.”

“We’re positive that this is going to take forever if we don’t get moving,” Riley offered, smiling faintly. “Anchor?”

“On it.” The square tube turned out to be periscope, one thin enough to slide beneath the bathroom door. They waited silently as Anchor turned it this way and that. “Looks clear.”

“All right. Slack, you open the door. Charlie and I will cover you.”

“Thanks?” She hopped down from the sink and shouldered her pack. She had to wait as Anchor moved away. “Ready?”

“Go.”

Slack yanked the door open, keeping herself behind it as Charlie and Riley kept their weapons up and aimed at the opening.

Nothing happened. Nothing continued to happen as Charlie stepped out into the convenience store and glanced around. “Nothing.”

“Good. I could use less excitement in my life.” Slack abandoned her place behind the door and moved to join him. “How far to the motorcycle place?”

“We should reach it by mid-afternoon or so.” Riley followed them slowly out of the truck stop with Anchor bringing up the rear.

“This is kind of creepy.” Charlie was keeping an eye on the horizon as they made their way back toward the highway.

“Which part? All this?” As Slack swept a hand toward the rusting vehicles scattered across the highway, “Or those bodies back there?”

“Neither. Both. No, I mean - when was the last time we saw a stench?”

“That’s a very good question.” Riley frowned.

“Day before yesterday,” Anchor said. “There were those three by the side of the road in hunting gear.”

“Okay, that is weird. We should be seeing _more_ of them as we approach the city, right?” Slack tightened her grip on her gun. “More dead people, more stenches.”

“Maybe.” Riley was frowning. “Or maybe they did what ours did. Decided to move on to somewhere… else.”

“Not making this any less creepy,” Slack retorted. “These’d be older than ours, right? Maybe they just ran out of steam? I mean, they mostly get drier and drier. Maybe they just… dried up?”

“Maybe never got anybody very far,” Charlie said. “I just think it’s kind of creepy.”

“We could get closer to the city and find the place jammed wall to wall with them,” Anchor said. “Let’s not borrow any trouble, all right? Motorcycles, fuel, maybe a few traction sheets and a couple of winches. Then we can worry about food and Pretty Boy’s missiles. We’ll take the stenches as they come.”

“He’s just like a ray of sunshine,” Slack said. “Is it too much to let me dream of a city without dead things?”

“Yes.” Riley had stopped where the access road began to curve, ready to join the highway. There was a slight rise there, and he was looking toward the city. “Take a look at that.”

The others drew abreast with him and stared down the hill at what lay below. At some point, a long drainage channel had been put in, running beneath the highway, which had itself collapsed at some point. Approximately four meters wide and six deep, it had been a means of diverting flood waters if the Ohio River rose too high.

“Sweet baby Jesus.”

“I guess we know where all the local stenches are.”

As far as the eye could see, the solid concrete trench was _crammed_ with the shifting, shuffling dead.

“Look at the road.” Slack swallowed. “Look at it.”

“It must have collapsed during the initial evacuation.” Anchor sank to his heels, eyeing the distant trench thoughtfully. “That is one hell of a traffic jam, and you can tell that whatever took out the road trapped a hell of a lot of people on the other side.”

“They musta thought they could make it on foot, climbing down into the channel and trying to follow it to somewhere they could climb out.” Charlie shivered. “In a crowd like that, it’d just take one stench and then -”

“And then there’d be nowhere to run.” Slack put a hand over her mouth, swallowing again. “How many of them are there?”

“Thousands.” Riley also sank to his heels, reaching up to tug at Slack’s belt. “C’mon, no sense in letting them know we’re here.”

She immediately dropped down beside him. “Charlie?”

Charlie slid downward somewhat more slowly, his attention still on the slowly heaving mass of the dead at the bottom of the hill. “How’re we supposed to get across that?”

“If they’re dry enough and we had enough accelerant, we could try to set the entire mess on fire,” Anchor said. “All that concrete and the height ought to keep it fairly contained.”

“We’d need a tanker truck of the stuff to make sure they all caught fire,” Riley retorted. “And even then we might accidentally set a fire we can’t get away from. There’s no telling how far that mass stretches.”

“As we don’t have a tanker, and no way to get one here even if we did, let’s concentrate on something slightly more useful?” Slack tugged at Riley’s pack. “You still got that map?”

“Yeah. We’re going to have to detour, and hope that not all the bridges and overpasses have given way.”

“There’s that ‘hope’ again.” Slack snorted. “We can’t wander around here forever. We’ve got, what, three days before we’re going to need to get back to Dead Reckoning, or Pretty Boy is going to decide we’re never coming back.”

“That’s why we have a radio,” Charlie told her. “Besides, Pretty Boy wouldn’t leave us.”

“She would if we brought an entire city full of those things back to Dead Reckoning with us. I don’t think any of us would blame her, either,” Anchor said. He watched as Riley pulled out the map. “It’s going to be harder than just trying to get over the top of those things. We’re going to have to make sure none of them see us, because if there’s any way out, they’ll find it and the entire horde will be after us.”

“After what happened back at Fiddler’s Green, I wouldn’t put it past them to form a human pyramid and just climb out after us. I’d bet the only reason they’re still in there is that there’s nowhere more interesting for them to be.”

“Boring. Boring is good.” Slack shifted to look at the map over Riley’s shoulder. “Well?”

“There are places in both directions, theoretically, but if the roads were as jammed as this one, I’m not sure we’ll have much more luck there.” Riley pulled the radio out of his pack. “Time for a little reconnaissance.”

**

“ _Hey, Pretty Boy. Pick up._ ”

“This is your captain speaking,” Pretty Boy was sprawled out atop Dead Reckoning, Pillsbury napping in the early morning light beside her. “Today, we’ll be flying at an average altitude of -”

“ _Like you’re old enough to remember airplanes._ ”

“I’ve seen a few movies.” Pretty Boy put the radio down beside her and picked up the binoculars. “I can see the overpass is out - what’s up?”

“ _Can you see the storm drain beneath it? The river overflow?_ ”

“Not really.” She adjusted the focus. “I mean, I can tell it’s there. That much concrete leaves a mark, you know, but the angle’s wrong. Looking for a ladder?”

“ _It’s full of stenches._ ”

She paused, tightening the focus again and following the line of the concrete trench along the landscape. “Full?”

“ _Side to side, though not top to bottom. Yet. Can you find us a way over it?_ ”

“I can’t believe you still want to go in there, and now this? Are you suicidal?” Pretty Boy nudged Pillsbury with one foot. “Are you hearing this?”

“I am pretending it is all a dream,” came the sleepy response.

“Yeah, I’d like to do that too.” She finally found a place where she could actually see into the canal, even though details were hard to make out. “... yeah, they kind of do fill it, don’t they?”

“ _Not looking for color commentary, thanks. Can you see a way over?_ ”

“From here? Yeah, a couple. There’s a minor bridge about two miles east, but it’s crammed with vehicles. Looks like some idiot wedged a car in there trying to make a run for it and backed up all the traffic from there.” She shifted, sitting cross-legged and still scanning. “It doesn’t look like many people got out, honestly. Not with the number of cars still crammed onto every inch of road.”

“ _All right. We’re going to head west. Keep an eye out for us, would you?_ ”

“I’ll try, but you’ve got some trees over that way. I won’t able to see a damn thing while you’re underneath.”

“ _Understood. Thanks._ ”

“That’s what you don’t actually pay me for.” Pretty Boy sighed, reaching over to close the connection. “D’you think they’ll make it back, Pillsbury?”

“I think so. They’re pretty determined.” Pillsbury had an arm over his face to block the morning sun. “Let me know when you want me to watch.”

“It’ll be a while, I think.” Pretty Boy raised the binoculars again. “I want to make sure they actually get over that bridge.”

**

It was eerily quiet as they walked. No birdsong, no wind to rustle the grass and leaves and none of them really felt like talking. The curve of the landscape took them slowly closer to the huge drainage trench, and the sound of shuffling feet eventually became audible.

They clustered together, keeping wary watch in all directions, and moved as quietly as possible toward the now-visible bridge. 

“We’re going to want to crawl,” was Slack’s diagnosis as they took cover behind an abandoned RV. “We don’t want them seeing us get onto the bridge, and we sure as hell don’t want them to see us leaving it.”

“That’s probably the best way,” Riley said. “But we’re going to have to be careful. Crawling in that mess is going to be difficult and leave no visibility. One at a time. It’ll be slow, but -”

“But slow is just fine.” Anchor shuddered. “It’ll leave us more time to check out the cars, or at look beneath them for moving feet. Who wants to go first?”

There came the distinct sound of absolutely no one volunteering. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Slack sighed. “Fine, I’ll go first.”

“I’ll go last.” Riley heaved a soft sigh. “Whenever you’re ready?”

“When I’m far enough from the trench, I’ll get up and wave,” Slack told him. “And I want you all to appreciate this.”

“We do,” Anchor assured her. “We really, really do.”

The surface of the highway had never been made for crawling, even when it had been in good repair, and that was years in the past. A blanket was torn up and made into primitive kneepads, held on with duct tape. They each had a set of heavy gloves, entirely necessary to a scavenger’s kit, and once her kneepads were taped on and her weapon secured to her back, Slack grimly set out on the achingly long crawl across the two-lane bridge.

As she slowly wove her way between the cars, it was impossible to tell how far she’d gotten or how far she had left to go. The sound of the dead rustling somewhere beneath her added a tooth-grating tension to the entire business. The occasional faint ‘thump’ made her heart race, letting her know that not all of the cars were empty, but she was far enough beneath the line of sight of anyone or anything within the vehicles to let her to proceed without too much hesitation. 

Slack had to zig-zag occasionally to get past a car that wasn’t in either line, abandoned askew and blocking all other traffic. It was mildly terrifying to move gingerly away from the safety of the center of the bridge toward the edge, increasing the feeling of claustrophobia and tension. The fact that the edges of the bridge were starting to crumble and decay made things even more tense.

Relief was nearly overwhelming as her hands crossed the line that marked the spot where the bridge met the road. She moved slowly and carefully along, dropping to her stomach every so often to peer between the wheels to be certain there weren’t any unpleasant surprises waiting for her. About ten car lengths from the edge of the bridge, she rose carefully and shakily to her feet. It took her several minutes to be certain all the cars in her vicinity were unoccupied.

Climbing atop the hood of the car with the least visible rust, she raised both hands above her head and waved. From the far side, Charlie waved back. A moment later he disappeared, already on his hands and knees.

Slack slid down from the car and took a few calming breaths. Her chosen position did not allow her to see into the trench. That sort of thing went both ways, and the last thing she wanted was for anyone other than her companions to be able to see her.

“Should’ve taken the radio,” she muttered.

**

“Yeah, she’s fine. I’m not seeing any movement on the road or along the edges on that side, but you’re getting to the point where it’s gonna be hard to tell.”

“ _And the bridge looks clear?_ ”

“From here, yeah.” Pretty Boy handed the binoculars to Pillsbury. “What do you see, man?”

“Not much.” Pillsbury fiddled with the focus before slowly scanning the horizon. “It’s very quiet.”

“ _Charlie was right, it’s creepy. It’s also a bit disturbing to realize I’d relax a little if we saw any stenches other than the ones right in front of us._ ”

Pretty Boy gave a humorless snort of laughter. “I’ll be sure to remind you of that, Anchor.”

“ _Yeah, I’m sure you will._ ”

“Hey, Charlie is across.” Pillsbury pointed, despite realizing it was too far away for Pretty Boy to see without the binoculars.

“ _My turn. Handing the radio over to Riley._ ”

“Stay away from the right side of the bridge,” Pillsbury offered. “It looks - not so safe.”

“ _I’ll keep that in mind._ ”

**

When Anchor pulled himself to his feet, he caught Charlie already waving to Riley.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Should’ve brought both radios with us.” He kept his voice down, glancing uneasily at the edge of the drainage canal. “There’s definitely a few stenches in those cars. Would’ve been nice to be able to warn Riley.”

“We know,” Slack told him. She jerked a thumb up at Charlie. “We went to the right in the middle of the bridge. You?”

“Left.”

“As long as both directions there are clear, I don’t think we’re going to have any problems. There’s not many other places where you’d choose a different route, and none of us actually ran into anything.” Slack glanced up as Charlie slid off the car. “Now that there are three of us, should we spread out a little? Get the lay of the land?”

“There’s a convenience store up ahead,” Charlie volunteered. “But this close to the highway, there probably won’t be anything left.”

“We could break into a few cars, once we get a little further from, from _that_.” Anchor jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the canal behind them. “You can see a lot of abandoned stuff in some of them. I’m sure someone packed canned goods and decided they’d be too heavy to drag along when they abandoned their vehicle..”

“Maybe find a few targets?” Slack looked back across the bridge. “I’ll keep an eye on things here.”

“I should probably stay,” Charlie said. “I mean, till Riley gets here.”

Slack rolled her eyes. “Charlie, which of us has the most experience in scavenging?”

“Riley.” Charlie took in the look on her face. “Oh, you mean _here_. Me, I guess.”

“That means you’d be best at that. I can wait here for Riley.” She patted his shoulder. “He’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“She’s sure.” Anchor was already moving away. “Come on, Charlie. Let’s find some food.”

Slack found herself a perch back on the hood of the red car where she’d waved to Charlie. Despite the rustling and occasional verbalization from the trench, or perhaps because of it, she was still on edge. It had become habit over the last few days to keep her gun in her hands, and she held it tightly as she waited for Riley to reach their side of the bridge.

The soft sound of Anchor and Charlie peering into car windows and trying various vehicle doors was an almost soothing counterpoint to the sounds coming from beneath the bridge, but she found herself straining in a futile attempt to see Riley as he wove his way between the cars.

For his part, Riley was moving fairly swiftly. Careful periodic checks beneath the vehicles were punctuated by rapid crawling, with the occasional pause to simply listen. He too, heard the rustling and thumping, and it kept him on edge as he moved. Remembering Pillsbury’s warning, he veered to the left when the obstructing car near the center of the bridge came into view.

The choice proved unfortunate and also premature. The other three had waited until they reached the obstruction before moving toward the edge. The first indication that something was wrong came as a sharp tug against the rifle strapped to his back.

“Oh fuck.”

The dead creature strapped into the front seat of the car had probably died in a collision. The side door was missing, and while it had been firmly strapped in at the time of the accident, time or the impact had partially skewed the seat and the belt, and it had more than enough reach to grasp Riley’s rifle and _pull_.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Riley struggled, rising to his knees, but not daring to get entirely to his feet. He was too close to the edge, and there was too much chance of being seen by the tightly pressed mass below. He could just glimpse the dead thing strapped into the car out of the corner of his eye, skewed sideways and with both hands firmly clasped around his rifle. It had an amazingly strong grip for something so long dead, and Riley struggled to get enough slack in the strap to get the rifle off. It would suck to lose the weapon, but better to lose the rifle than his life.

A sharp jerk by the stench dragged him dangerously close to bared, snapping teeth and halfway to his feet.

“Oh _fuck_.” 

Riley was almost halfway across the bridge, and his sudden appearance, bowed backward, told Slack exactly what was going on. She waved both arms above her head, gun still in hand. She didn’t dare shout, instead waving wildly in an attempt to get his attention.

A brief struggle told Riley that he wasn’t going to be able to get the thing to let go, and he’d tire long before it would. He twisted, pulling as hard as he could, trying to buy himself some slack. As he struggled, movement caught his attention, and he saw Slack, waving her arms frantically.

There was no way she could see the determinedly snapping dead thing from her vantage, nor could she reach him without risking the things below seeing her, but if she could see him?

Riley with a brief prayer to whoever might be listening, braced himself against the frame of the car and pulled just as hard as he could. Muscles straining, breath hissing between his teeth, he arched his back and pulled. As he started feeling an angry burn in those same muscles, he heard the sound he’d been waiting for.

The stench had been sitting there a long time, drying out, exposed to the wind and the weather. So had its seat-belt. There was a nasty, protracted _tearing_ sound, and Riley threw himself forward, dragging the stench out of the car and up over his shoulder.

Two shots rang out, causing a sudden silence from the trench below, and Riley pressed himself flat to the pavement, wincing at the impact. Jerking his head up, he looked around wildly for the stench - finding himself almost nose to nose with it.

The rest of its head was, thankfully, missing.

He took a slow, calming breath, resisting the urge to vomit at the smell.

“ _Jesus, Riley._ ” The radio at his belt whispered, volume carefully turned to the lowest audible setting. “ _What the fuck was that? Are you alive? Speak to me._ ”

It took him several minutes to move one aching arm to free the small radio from his belt. “Yeah. I’m alive. In a lot of pain, but alive.”

“ _You might want to get moving. That was enough noise to let everyone know something’s up._ ”

“Shit.”

A long, painful crawl later, Riley sprawled at Slack’s feet, staring up at three worried faces.

“Remind me to thank you,” he told Slack, wincing as he tried to stretch aching muscles. “I thought I wasn’t going to make it off that bridge.”

“You nearly didn’t.” Anchor offered him a hand up, but Riley waved him off.

“I should’ve stayed,” Charlie said, clutching his rifle. “But - that was a good shot, Slack.”

“They were both good shots,” she protested. “Are you really alright, Riley?”

“Other than the shock to my heart and a few strained muscles, I’m just fine.” He stared up at her. “How much damage did that do?”

“I haven’t had the nerve to look,” she admitted. “They’re probably all looking up, now.”

“I don’t think it caused as much damage as you think. Those concrete walls caused one hell of an echo. There’s no telling where that shot came from.” Archer sank to his heels. “On the other hand, I don’t think we should hang around, either.”

“We should make a straight shot for the motorcycles.” Slack was casting nervous glances back toward the trench. “Move as fast as we can. I’m sure we can find _another_ truck depot. One a lot further from here. Probably even another National Guard heroic last stand.”

“Ambitious is good… but getting the fuck out of here is better.” Anchor poked at Riley. “I think we want as much distance from this place as humanly possible.”

“Agreed.” Riley fumbled for the radio. “Pretty Boy?”

“ _No, but thank you for the compliment._ ”

Riley smiled in spite of himself. “Pillsbury. Can you two get Dread Reckoning up and around the city? We’re going to find us some motorcycles and get the fuck out of here.”

“ _Define ‘up and around’._ ”

“Head west. Make a wide circle and once you’re clear of this mess, call us. We’ll figure out how to get the fuck out of here without having to cross that nightmare again, and we’ll try to pick up some supplies on the way.”

“ _Pretty Boy says, ‘I told you so’._ ”

“Yeah, tell her I love her too.”

“ _Good luck._ ”

Riley looked up at the faces surrounding him. “We don’t need luck.” He found himself smiling broadly. “Just a little bit of time and an open road.”

“ _I’ll remind you of that at the next set of road blocks._ ”

“Smart ass.”

“ _We’ll see you soon._ ”

Riley accepted Anchor and Charlie’s help in getting to his feet, trying to ignore the rising noise from the trench. They started off at a limping run, Slack keeping an eye on their rear.

“Yeah. Yeah you will.”


End file.
